Alone
by theNEWanias
Summary: Based on the single prompt word 'alone' each chapter is a definition for the word. Follows the life and development of the Twin's relaitonship, as well as those who flit in and out of it. One of many other Word stories: Definition Series.
1. Definition One: separated or isolated

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

A/n: IMPORTANT, PLEASE DO NOT SKIP...this particular section of the story takes place when the twins are five years old. Keep this in mind as you read, please.

Definition One: _separated or isolated_.

I was crying. Not just a single tear, no, but neither was I bleating like a lost lamb. But I was scared, and I was sad. I was so, so afraid. So afraid that I'd never see him again. It was an awful feeling.

I meandered a little further, checking under the porch and then in the old garage, looking hard for a sign of him amongst the strange Muggle tools and devices that Father always kept in here. But not a single thing caught my eye: no glistening shine of red hair, no spot of freckles…nothing.

Discouraged and sad, I slowly and somberly made my way upstairs to our room.

Mother didn't bother asking me what was wrong…sometimes, I wondered if she even saw that I was alone. That in itself should have been weird.

I sat up in our bed and cried silently, feeling guilty and terrible for having lost my own brother…my own _twin_. I was awful! How could I have let myself lose him? How could I…?

"Georgie?" My ears perked at that sound. "Georgie, are you alright? You never found me!" There he was, smiling down at me from his hiding-place: he'd somehow managed to crawl into the little space above our bed; a hole in the ceiling.

"Fred! You scared me!" I squeaked, too astonished and delighted by his sudden appearance to be embarrassed.

"Well, it _is_ kind of your fault for not finding me. But I guess I should have known that I'm better at hiding than you." He dropped down onto our bed beside and once he'd gotten into a sitting position, he put a freckled arm around my back. "Now stop crying, Georgie, and let's go get some lunch."

I nodded, and reluctant to let him go again, I walked with my hand in his all the way down the stairs, only breaking apart at the table. Mom was busy trying to keep a tiny, two-year-old Ron from bumping his head on the table as he ran around the kitchen. Fred and I smiled at him.

After lunch, we decided to find something else to do. Fred suggested a game. "Alright," I said, "But no more hide-and-seek."

Fred pouted but agreed.

"I'm sorry, maybe tomorrow? And promise me you won't hide so good next time!"

"Of course Georgie." We went outside together to discover what was out there, the warm spring-time sun beating down on our backs.


	2. Definition Two: exclusion

Disclaimer: Once agian (tear) I do not own these characters.

A/n: Told from Lee's perspective.

Definition Two: _exclusion_.

Even as their best friend, there is definitely the impression that I'm not included in exactly everything they do. And that's just fine with me…but it _is_ the Weasley Twins, so it can be slightly alarming. It means I never know if I'm going to be their next punch-line.

Honestly though, I doubt it. I've known them for a little over a year now – we're starting our second year at Hogwarts together this year – and it's easier to trust them. I remember meeting them on the train last year: these two pale-skinned, freckle-smattered, fiery-haired boys, finishing each other's sentences like it was their job; inseparable. Whether or not the teachers somehow knew not to separate them, I could never be sure, but even classes hadn't torn them apart. They shared every class.

But aside from classes, they seemed to share something else…then again, that shouldn't surprise me. They shared everything. But I'm not talking about scarves or quills or books…or even names for that matter (they enjoyed swapping names all the time). No, there was some sort of strange, almost emotional thing the two of them shared.

One thing that was hard to ignore was how they seemed to be disappearing a lot towards the end of our first year. I would be walking with them each on one side of me one minute, the next only to discover that they had vanished. I'd shrug it off and then find that they had beaten me to the class we'd been heading to. They always were – and continue to be – excellent at abruptly turning up in unexpected ways, and it's always wherever you need to be going.

This year, they're going to be trying out for the Gryffindor House Quidditch team; beaters, naturally…as for me, well, I'm just going to be commentator. I love Quidditch, really I do! It's just that, unlike the twins, I prefer to be on the sidelines. Besides, it's more fitting that they're in the spotlight: I'm just here to cast it.

I love how I'm involved in almost all their jokes and pranks. Whenever they say something that appears to be random, I usually laugh too, because I understand what everyone else doesn't. But of course, there are the times where they don't say anything. The times where all they have to do is look at one another, and they break out into identical grins of mirth…without me.

Sometimes, I must admit, I get the tiniest bit jealous. But who wouldn't be? To have a twin – another person who looked just like you, talked like you, thought like you…I bet it's amazing. They don't _have_ to say a word. They just know. I wish I had that with someone; anyone.

So now, we're sitting together in front of the fire in the Common Room, and they're laughing, and so am I, but on the inside, I know that I can't completely understand what's so funny. As I said, there is always that sinking feeling of exclusion…but I have to wonder, do they ever feel excluded? From the rest of the world, I mean. After all, to be so close is to sacrifice a lot for the sake of closeness. If that makes any sense…

"Lee, are you coming?"

"It's pretty late."

I hesitate. "Yeah. Yeah I'm coming hold on."


	3. Definition Three: unique, unequaled

Definition Three: _unique; unequaled_. 

It does not matter that we're identical. Identical is only skin-deep.

Outside: pale, soft skin, deft fingers, stocky stature and a slight rush of permanent blush – freckles. Same fiery red hair, same bright blue eyes, and an ever-present smirk. We use it to our advantage, there's no doubt about that…but it gets a little unnerving at times, to see how little people pay attention to our insides. If they could just get past the word 'identical,' maybe they could tell us apart.

Inside: I'm the oldest (by a stretch of thirteen minutes) and therefore, I have always been the more take-charge twin. George knows that…I think he likes it that way. For all my dominance however, there comes a price: I act on my impulses far too quickly. It is true that when George reminds me to scale down for a moment on a plan, it can be depressing, but only until I realize that he is right. It's times like those I need to thank him most for being able to keep everything in check. To keep _me_ in check.

He's more mellow than me, but what he lacks in a fuse, he makes up for with the bang. It takes more to anger him, yes, but once you've succeeded, it is absolutely unrivaled. Not even our mother can scare me like an angry George.

As it is however, I love him to death, and I try not to push the line too far.

Sometimes, considering it keeps people from knowing us inside; keeps our love a secret, I don't mind being identical. Besides, together, we make something quite different. Something completely unequaled by the rest of our peers. We're not just a pair of twins: together, we make a whole. I'd like to keep it that way.


	4. Definition Four: let well alone

Disclaimer: This story is as real as my ability to ride a broomstick and command flying monkeys.

A/n: Ha! I was right! writing something that was off track definitely fixed my writer's block. Thanx for the patience.

Definition Four: _leave well alone_

"Just…just leave them be, Molly. There's…there's nothing we can do about it. Not anymore." Arthur Weasley was doing his damndest to bring his wife out of tears.

"But…but we can't just let them…" she sobbed, unable to finish her thought: it was just too unbearable for her. Her sons…her twin boys.

"Shhh, Molly it's…it's alright." Arthur shuddered at the cringe he felt in his arms; he knew she hated this. "We…" even Arthur, who tolerated almost everything, had a hard time accepting this. "We knew this was coming. We knew." She knew he was right. She had tried to ignore all then signs as she watched her boys grow up, continuing to pursue a blissful denial.

"So what're we supposed to do, Arthur? Just…just let them do this?" she wept incredulously.

Arthur looked down at his short, stocky wife; even when she was in tears and her bright red hair stuck together from the crying, she was beautiful. Was this how his sons felt? It was an alarming thought. "…yes. It is all we can do." He took a deep, quivering breath, as though preparing himself for a battle or a speech. "Unless you want to lose two more sons," he regretted his reference to Percy immediately – it sent her into harder tears. "Then we will have to just…cope." Molly looked at him as though he was out of his mind…which he very well may have.

Chaos. Frantic. Electric. Deadlines. Eviction. Rejection.

These would have been some of the choice words used to describe the Weasley twins' packing methods.

"How could we have let it out?"

"How are we going to find enough money?"

"We need that money Harry gave us for the shop."

"Some life we've chosen, eh George?" Fred's eyes were wide and the blue seemed to be turning brighter and brighter, as if the energy he was using to hurry was fueling his worry.

"Where is it?"

"Top drawer to the left." Fred loved that he could just know exactly what George was talking about: it made things so much easier.

Knock on the door.

"Hellocomein." They looked at each other for a moment, then back to the slowly opening door. Ron. Ginny. Harry. Hermione. "Hey guys. What's up?"

Ron started. "We…we just…we wanted to say good-bye. You know…just in case." He looked so forlorn. It wasn't a look that the twins – or anyone, for that matter – usually associated with Ron.

"Yeah. We didn't want you to leave. We get it." Ginny added.

"This isn't fair! You guys should be able to stay!" Hermione was so emotional that Harry had to hold her a little to keep her on her feet.

"It's ok guys. We knew it would happen eventually."

"Yeah," George added. "It's not something you can keep a secret forever, and eventually, there would be some question as to why we weren't married. Why neither of us had had a girlfriend since third year. Why we weren't sad about it." George met Fred's eyes, identical to his own.

The twins locked gazes with everyone: their business partner; their friends; their family. There were tears in Hermione's and Ginny's eyes, and even a ghost of a tear began to form in Ron's sky-colored eyes. And then, before anyone could have guessed that it would happen, a rush of ginger hair and a breeze of short breath tumbled clumsily into a hug with its brothers. Ron had clung to both boys, silent tears flowing, violent shakes making him shiver.

"I-I d-don't want you to go!" He cried. "What are we going to do without you?" He asked. "How will we laugh?" He didn't care anymore about how embarrassing this might be. He'd grin and bare it later.

"How…" Harry began, and every tear-filled eye turned to him, "How will we live?" He blanched a little at the sudden attention this got him.

"It will _never_ be the same." Ginny said, her voice quivering a little.

"No…but maybe…maybe Mum and Dad are right." George said, and everyone stared at him as though he were a mad man. "Maybe it's better for everyone…" but he stopped. Still everyone stared at him as though he was out of his mind…and he probably was.

Fred and George, with the help of their siblings and friends, dragged what little luggage they had down the stairs to the fireplace, ready to leave once their parents dismissed them from the household. They braced themselves for rejection.

"I know what they meant when they said you can't buy love." Fred whispered to George.

George turned sharply at the loving words, and whispered back, "You won't have to. I'm here…_always_." Even here in front of the small congregation of friends, a deep blush took its place amongst the ranks of Weasley freckles dotting Fred's face.

Just then, the door opened, and out stepped Arthur who was leading Molly, still in tears.

"We'll just be going then," they chorused.

"No, guys, look!" Hermione pointed. Arthur was shaking his head 'no.'

And then their mother spoke. "Boys…don't…don't leave. We can't bear to lose you, not now, not knowing what's going on around us. Please…" she cried a little.

"…forgive us." Arthur finished for her. "It's…it's not something that is easy to…to deal with. Or to –" he was going to say 'accept' but Fred cut him off.

"_Deal with_?" His eyes portrayed anger . "You say it as if we were something awful! Like something Mum has to clean off the table or something…" but George hushed him.

"Fred. No. We should be grateful." He rubbed Fred's back and shoulders until he was mollified. They looked so strong, holding one another.

Their parents approached them slowly, and eventually, they were all in a hug and tears of happiness and forgiveness were rolling almost as strongly as the waves of relief that were rolling on the shores of everybody's hearts.

_It was time to let them well enough alone anyway._ Arthur thought to himself as he backed away from his sons.


	5. Definition: without

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the sad and sorry plot

A/n: be warned, this last chapter is so angsty...or at least I thought so. SPOILER for Deathly Hallows + twist. I doff my cap to Fred Weasley.

Definition Five: _without_

Eighteen. Eighteen and dead. Soft intensity blinded him. His brother was dead. How was someone supposed to react to that? How did you define the line with this one?

Dead.

It couldn't be true. It just couldn't be true. The one thing George held close: leaning on the skin of Fred's shoulder, expressing in delicate phrases and kisses and touches his love for his twin. He wanted Fred so desperately to believe it. Maybe if he could have thrown away his doubts, he could have lived. "I won't let this go."

He had this feeling under his skin, and he had a scene in his head of perhaps love, love,_ "love what are you waiting for? Expose your secrets. You don't have to speak for me to believe it."_

A feeling he could follow.

"I'm going with him."

_I'm going with him_.

That's what the note had said. _I can't pretend I don't miss him more than everyone else. Sorry…love forever and always, George_.

Alone. Again.

Alone.


End file.
